


Life Marks

by MyLittleCornerOfSherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock/pseuds/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your Life Mark represented something about your soul mate. It didn't tell you who they were. You had to figure that out for yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Marks

**Author's Note:**

> For rachminuit on tumblr who prompted: "I always love fics about soulmates, like you find your soulmate through matching tattoos, or when their name is somewhere on your body, or you have a piece of jewellery, or some sort of soul bond. Those fics get me every time."
> 
> Trying to get out of my writing slump and asked for some prompts over on my tumblr. This was the first one out of the gate. An unbeated, quickly written work just to get it out of my head. Posted because there were several requests for it to be here.

Life Marks were supposed to represent something about your soul mate. John’s friends had joked about how they’d cringed at their Life Marks until they had met their soul mates. Larry (a grey kitten on his wrist) didn’t realize Lois was his life partner until about a month into dating her he’d called her “Kitten” out of the blue. She was one of those women who had gone silver early and owned it beautifully. Her mark had been a bright orange caduceus at the base of her back, so she’d had an inkling about him when she found out her ginger blind date was also a doctor.  Mark (a splash of pink lace across his chest) had fallen hard for his lovely clothing designer wife right away. She on the other hand had taken a while to realize that the odd blue splash on her ankle meant that this rough around the edges house painter was meant for her.  

John had always wondered what his meant. It had been a dark brown human skull across his left shoulder. Was his soul mate an anthropologist or mortician? What sort of person liked skulls? Could it mean his soul mate had died before his mark appeared in his late teens?  That had been known to happen before. Those people usually dated and sometimes got married, but never felt that strong connection soul mates did.  It was like they missed out on an important turning point in their lives. It left them feeling never quite whole.  But none of that mattered now because John’s mark had been obliterated by the gunshot wound and subsequent scar. He would probably never be able to prove to his soul mate they were meant to be if he ever met them now.

Sherlock was of the mindset that a birth mark on one’s body that was less defined than a tattoo would determine who you spent the rest of your life with was a ridiculous. It was a fairy-tale notion and not one that he would fall subject to. It had nothing to do with the fact that when his had appeared he’d been crushed. His wasn’t really even a mark, it was more like a scar. It was an irregular pattern of white and pink lines on his left shoulder, with a centered more raised white portion. It wasn’t until he was studying bullet exit wounds that he realized what it was supposed to be. Well then, that determined it. His soul mate, if he’d had one, was dead. Died from a gunshot wound, he surmised. Sherlock merely shrugged it off, ignoring the sharp pang in his chest. He didn’t have time for romantic entanglements anyways.

John knew before Sherlock. He didn’t know instantly. It wasn’t until Sherlock was trying to “straighten up” the flat and picked up the skull that John’s hopes rose. It had been awhile since John had seen his mark, but Sherlock’s hair was undoubtedly the color of his mark and the fact that the man kept a skull and referred to it as “friend” was a good indicator that Sherlock might very well be his soul mate. When he’d watched Sherlock work, consulting detective he’d said, the interest in how the lady had died, the way he’d not even cringed at the dead body, John knew. He knew this tall man with his swirling coat and darting eyes belonged with him.  When John’s interest had been rebutted at the café, John’s heart had dropped. The man wasn’t interested in finding his soul mate at all. Sherlock’s work was his life it appeared. John only hoped he could be a part of that life, because he’d be damned if he’d live his life without a soul mate even if it was a bit of one sided pining.

Sherlock knew, or hoped at any rate, standing outside the ambulance trying to get Lestrade to leave him alone. He’d looked over at John and something clicked. John had been flirting with him at Angelo’s, but Sherlock had long ago gotten used to people trying to chat him up hoping that their mark might match up to him, so he’d dismissed it. John had just killed a man for him. He hadn’t needed to, Sherlock was sure he’d picked the right bottle, but John didn’t know that. All he’d seen was Sherlock in danger and acted. Sherlock had known that the limp was psychosomatic and that John had been shot somewhere besides his leg, but he’d never gone further. Now that they’d left the crime scene and his annoying brother, Sherlock watched the way John carried himself, and he knew.

He waited until they were back in the flat before he said anything.

\-----------------------------

“John, I think I may have a piece of glass from the window in my shoulder? I didn’t want to have to put up with the idiots in the ambulance any longer than I had to and it’s not too bad, but it is irritating. Could you get it out?” Sherlock shrugs out of his coat, facing John, and begins unbuttoning his shirt.

John sighs. He was already aware of how little Sherlock thought of the people around him. “At least I’m not as big an idiot as the rest of them, apparently,” John mumbles to himself as he retrieves his medical supplies from where he’d dropped it earlier. John retracts that statement immediately upon turning around and faced with Sherlock’s bare back. There’s no piece of glass in Sherlock’s shoulder, but a Life Mark that is almost, if not, identical to John’s scar. Even though John knows Sherlock is his soul mate, his mouth hangs open, speechless at the sight.

**Author's Note:**

> A Post Script if you will: John still lords it over Sherlock that he knew before Sherlock did. Sherlock suggested that John get his life mark tattooed over his scar but John balked at the idea. He likes that they have matching marks/scars so he got his skull tattooed on his right shoulder instead.


End file.
